


Beware the Christmas Cake!

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Series: Confessions, Condoms, and the Host Club! [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, Daddy Issues, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Original postdate: 02-07-10.) Cross-posted from FanFiction.net for posterity. Can be read as a standalone or as part of the series.</p><p>Christmas Cake - Japanese slang for an unmarried girl over 25. "Nobody wants Christmas cake after the 25th." Haruhi won't become one with Tamaki so obviously obsessed with her, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *In recent years, thanks to the marketing prowess of the folks at Kentucky Fried Chicken, the Christmas Chicken Dinner has become quite popular.
> 
> *Christmas Eve has been hyped by the T.V. media as being a time for romantic miracles. It is seen as a time to be spent with one's boyfriend or girlfriend in a romantic setting, so fancy restaurants and hotels are often booked solid at this time. It is often also a time when girls get to reveal their affections to boys and vice versa. Because of this, extending a girl an invitation to be together on Christmas Eve has very deep, romantic implications.
> 
> *The Japanese celebrate Christmas Eve by eating a 'Christmas Cake' which the father of the family purchases on his way home from work (or his wife does in the case where he has to work on Christmas Eve). Stores all over carry versions of this Christmas cake and drop the price of it drastically on December 25th in order to sell everything out by the 26th. This has resulted in a rather interesting expression in which young girls are referred to as a 'Christmas cakes': marriageable until their 25th birthday and requiring heavy discounts to get married after their 25th birthdays.

The air was a touch too chill for lost gloves. Cramped as the fast food joint was, Haruhi was happy to be inside a warm place. Families squeezed themselves inside the small eatery, eager to advantage of holiday pricing before evening fell. The chipped tables and boisterous guests were hardly scenic, but they reminded Haruhi of the holidays and consequently of her mother. She could feel a bittersweet smile forming on her face.

The group of teenage girls crowded around the window alerted Haruhi of their presence. Within moments, Kaoru was sliding easily into the booth beside her. She told them showing up at a KFC in a limousine would draw to much attention. Rich bastards.

"Tamaki finally got you to dress more like a girl, huh?" He asked, brushing his dark hair to the side.

She shifted, crossing her legs. Since she'd begun her first year of University her clothes had gradually become more feminine. The choice was not stylistic, but rather a direct consequence of no longer needing to conceal her gender. Although still nothing like the frills and lace her Father and Tamaki had so often dreamed of, it was hardly a standardized boy’s uniform. Baby blue plaid pants and a white t-shirt with a paw print on it hung loosely over a sky-blue thermal. Her hair was still short, but she was wearing two white barrettes.

She shifted and toyed with the napkin on the table. Did she really look that different?

"So Haruhi, how have things been with Ta-ma-ki?" Kaoru asked in a singsong voice, fluttering his eyelashes a few times for dramatic effect. "Has he finally made a move?"

The brunette could feel her face flush. What should she tell him? How much information was too much? Kaoru had once harbored feelings for her--maybe even still. Wouldn't it be insensitive to talk about that sort of thing with him? (Who was she kidding? Not like there was much to talk about.)

"I'm not really sure what you mean," she answered cautiously. "Things are the same for us."

Kaoru smiled and Haruhi felt surprised by how natural it looked on him.

"Well you better tell him to hurry up...” A familiar laugh forced Haruhi to turn her head. “Or I might finally have to make my move!" Hikaru interjected, taking his place beside his brother.

"Ah, Kaoru--oh, and Kyouya-senpai!" She stumbled over the suffix. The years she spent with him in high school still ingrained in her mind.

"Haruhi," Kyouya nodded in acknowledgement, "Hikaru."

The both was quickly becoming less comfortable with each additional party member. Haruhi felt squished and they were still short the centerpiece. 

"So, how have your holidays been, Haruhi? I'm sure there's some type of commoner-festival coming up any day now, correct?" Haruhi was glad for the simple conversation.

"Mine have been good so far. I'm going to spend New Year's with my Father, and of course I'm going to be giving gifts to everyone soon! They're just simple things, but I hope you’ll enjoy them."

"And what about Christmas Eve?" Kyouya wasn't usually one to prod. He usually did his own research. Haruhi glanced down.

"You don't want to become a Christmas Cake, you know!" Hikaru blurted, laughing heartily.

"Hikaru!" Kaoru snapped.

Haruhi hardly had enough time to become offended or embarrassed, she was to overcome by nostalgia.

"Did someone say cake?" Haruhi knew who it was even though the voice was a couple notches deeper. "Hi everybody! Hey, Haru-chan, did you miss me? I haven't seen you since before your entrance exam. I bet you did great, didn’t you? Hey, are you guys going to order cake?" 

Mori appeared behind him—could Haruhi really refer to Honey-senpai as a man? He was definitely taller than he was in highschool--definitely taller than Haruhi—but still the shortest of her boys. He made up for it with boundless enthusiasm.

"What kind of cake were you going to order?" Honey repeated. 

Mori squeezed his large frame next to Kyouya, and Haruhi wondered briefly if they were deliberately not sitting next to her. Honey opted for Mori's lap, and even given the lack of space and smaller frame, they looked ridiculous.

"Haru-chan, Haru-chan!" Honey complained loudly, attracting the attention of several other patrons. He continued on, oblivious. "I got my ear pierced, you know!" Honey tucked his hair behind his ear and leaned across the table to show her the small stud. "I thought it was gonna hurt, but then Takashi said he would do it first if it would make me feel better. Then he held my hand the whole time—and now we match!" Haruhi hadn't even noticed. She glanced to Mori's ear.

"Wow, that looks really good on you two." She smiled warmly. 

"Ah! Sorry for leaving you waiting Haruhi—I had to—" The blond stopped abruptly and observed everyone seated.

"What's wrong with Tamaki?" Kaoru whispered.

There was a sudden explosion of energy and tears that rivaled even Honey’s exuberance.

"Ohhhh—it's like the whole family's together again!" 

Tamaki flung himself dramatically across the table and encircled his arms around Kyouya. 

"Oh Mommy, I haven't seen you in so, so, so long!" 

Tamaki proceeded to gush over each former-Host Club member individually, asking questions like when did you grow so tall, and did you miss me, did you miss me, and why don't you ever visit?

"Oh Mommy, you're so terrible! Abandoning me for your business and leaving me to raise our only daughter all alone!" He threw his hand over his forehead.

Haruhi shouldered his touch away. "Tamaki, I'm not your daughter. I already have a father." He hadn't said things like that in a long time.

"Hey tono, don't you think it's a bit disturbing that you’re still calling Haruhi your daughter?" Hikaru asked. 

"It is is a bit incestuous." Kyouya inclined his head.

"Yeah, and incest isn't funny, Tamaki," Kaoru said solemnly, resisting the urge to laugh. “Even as a joke.”

"Incest?" Tamaki screeched indignantly. His fists knocked the table and anyone not already openly staring turned their heads. "But I—Haruhi?" 

He stared at her with pleading eyes. She shrugged. The rest of the club reacted similarly. 

"Kyouya? Honey? Mori?" Tamaki’s eyes flickered between them.

"Don't you think we're passed that now?" A low voice rumbled. 

Mori and Honey had long moved on to University with everyone else not far behind. It was strange without the Host Club to look forward to, but Haruhi was slowly adjusting to her new life, her new apartment, and her new—well—whatever Tamaki was supposed to be to her.

Tamaki shrugged into the booth beside her, squeezing everyone together and almost pushing Mori out of of the other side. A few years ago he might have begun wailing and moping, but Honey wasn't the only one who had done some growing up.

"So Haruhi, this is a real commoner diner? Everything is so tiny and cramped—and no one is dressed up at all!" Tamaki exclaimed excitedly, glancing around like a child in a candy store.

"Not to mention we've been here for practically ten minutes, and a waiter has yet to ask us if we wanted rinks," Hikaru complained dryly.

"Hikaru!" Kaoru whispered, "Don't say insensitive things like that. Businesses like this probably can't afford to hire enough people so that everyone has their own waiter! You're going to offend Haruhi!"

Haruhi rolled her eyes. She supposed there would always be things the Host Club wouldn’t be able to understand.

"Do we get to wash our own dishes?" Tamaki asked, nearly bouncing in his seat, and for a moment Haruhi wasn't sure if he was patronizing her or not.

"Of course not. There is no waiter. You have to stand in line and place your order."

After several embarrassing attempts where various former Host Club members attempted to order various expensive things that were obviously not on the menu, Haruhi shushed them and ordered them all "Christmas Chicken" specials.

Honey waved his hand in front of Tamaki’s face. "Hey, Tamaki, Tamaki! Did you see my ear? Mori and I had our ears pierced!" 

Tamaki stared in awe. Haruhi wondered briefly if Honey repeated the story to everyone he came in contact with.

"That's so cool you guys! Did it hurt? When did this happen? Are you guys gonna get tattoos too?!" 

Tamaki was easily roped in, eyes glittering, imagining the two with cool haircuts and motorcycles to match.

"So you guys are official now, right?" Hikaru asked offhandedly.

"Yes." Mori had already spoken more than usual.

"Official?" Tamaki tilted his head. He was always the last one to figure things out. "Officially what?" 

"I can't believe he didn't notice." Kaoru whispered to his twin.

"Well we all know how long it took him to figure out Haruhi's gender." Kyouya commented.

"Not to mention the fact that he liked her," Hikaru continued.

"I mean, even you noticed before he did," Kaoru chuckled.

"You guys—don't talk about me like I'm not here—I can hear you! What do you mean official? And it didn't take me that long to figure out that Haruhi was a girl! I knew she was cute right from the beginning!"

Haruhi felt the urge to hide in the ladies room.

"Aw, you're making her blush." Hikaru teased.

"What’s official? Honey, Mori? What's going on!?"

"What Mori said but you were obviously too dense to understand, was that perhaps it is like you said those many years ago, and some of us are indeed the homo side characters."

"Ho..mo...side characters?" Tamaki repeated slowly, dumbfounded.

Exasperated, Honey decided to explain it once and for all. "It's like with you and Haru-chan!" 

Tamaki's face remained blank.

"Tamaki, it's like this!" 

Then Honey-senpai did the unthinkable, craned his neck upwards and kissed Mori, quick and chaste. There was such a sense of ease—like he'd been doing it for years. Haruhi glanced away just in time to catch Tamaki's face slowly coloring red.

Tamaki gaped, wide eyed. "But Mori! When I asked you if you ever thought about kissing Honey you said no! Now you and Mori are...Haruhi and I aren't like that!" Tamaki shouted, slamming his hands down onto the table and standing. The plasticware shook. He was blushing furiously at the mere implication.

"I will go test the commoner restroom!" Tamaki announced, barreling toward the bathroom in the far corner of the restaurant.

Several customers threw them dirty looks and grumbled about all the commotion. Haruhi swallowed thickly and idly twiddled her thumbs. She could feel five sets of eyes watching her every move.

"Haru-chan, I thought that you and Tamaki were…" Honey started cautiously.

Mori silenced him. "Mitsukuni."

Kyouya tried to smooth the situation over. "Haruhi, Tamaki can be rather slow at times." 

"Kyouya, I heard you business is doing well." Haruhi blurted suddenly, desperate for a topic change.

The conversation sailed smoothly for a few minutes, the six of them exchanging stories about their new lives—too many projects and simpler worries and Haruhi getting a new part-time job.

"And then I said—that's not my boyfriend—he’s my brother!"

The table burst into laughter, and Haruhi laughed too, for a moment forgetting that Tamaki still hadn't reappeared. The silence that settled was broken by Kyouya. Mori and Honey senpai were forced to move so he could leave the booth.

"I'm going to excuse myself for a moment Haruhi, perhaps I can convince Tamaki to return the table. I'm sure this isn't even necessary to say, but he can be very melodramatic at times." 

Kyouya headed toward the bathrooms, and the table was draped in an eerie silence.

"Um, Haruhi—I know this is kinda personal, but how exactly are you and tono doing?" A tentative voice asked. 

Haruhi glanced up, it was Kaoru, of course. It’s easier without Kyouya’s daunting gaze. 

"I'm not really sure myself. He seems to still think of me as his daughter." 

It was beginning to drive her crazy. They were living together! A peck on the forehead, a warm embrace, but then afterwards always a smile, and then, “I can do that you know, because I'm your father!”

Except he really wasn't her father.

"I think tono is just shy!" Honey offered; smile warm. 

Haruhi wanted to think so too.

"Maybe you should just be the boy again." 

Someone said—and no one was quite sure who had said it until the they remembered that Mori was still there.

"The boy...?" Haruhi asked for clarification. 

Didn't Tamaki want her to be more like a girl? Wearing stupid skirts and barrettes, all so that Tamaki would think of her as something other than a daughter, and now Mori was telling her to go back to how she’d been in high school?

"Well, tono is more like a girl than you are Haruhi," Hikaru said with a shrug.

"He means personality-wise!" Kaoru amended, throwing his older brother a bothered look.

Haruhi considered it. She agreed that there was definitely a possibility, but then, if they were wrong—she'd feel so stupid.

"Maybe you should ask him if he wants to go out tomorrow night!" Honey suggested. "Couples always go out on Christmas Eve!"

Hikaru raised a brow. "But don't the boys usually ask girls that sort of thing?" 

"See that's what I mean! I think tono is just so girly in his head that he doesn't—"

"Tamaki!" Kaoru interrupted. 

They all turned at once.

"Tamaki." Kyouya said pointedly, staring at him.

"But, Mommy,” Kyouya gave him a sharp look.

"Oh Honey, Mori! I hope you aren't mad at me!" Tears seemed to appear instantaneously, waterfalls cascading to the floor. 

"I don't think it's gross or anything like that I just was surprised and confused and I really didn't mean any harm! Please don't hate me now!" 

Before Tamaki could apologize any further, a staff member appeared at their table.

"I apologize, but I'm going to have to ask you all to leave the premises. We've had several complaints."

***

The next day was difficult for Tamaki, emotions running rampant. If Mori had lied that day back in Ouran—that he really did think about kissing Honey—and now Honey and Mori were like that, then did it mean that he and Haruhi would end up like that too?

Wasn't wanting to kiss your daughter and show affection normal? Every father loved his daughter!

"It's natural to want to kiss and hug them and be around them all the time!" 

Tamaki exclaimed suddenly, sounds reverberating off of white walls in an empty apartment. Who was he trying to convince? The more Tamaki thought about the situation—and he thought about it a lot—the more worried he became.

He pondered on it as he did the dishes. It wasn't so normal to think of your daughter constantly, was it? He placed a saucepan in the dishwasher with a loud clatter. Shouldn't a father think of other things as well? He didn't think of Kyouya or anyone else even half as much. He sighed and turned off the water. Nothing could distract him.

He paced around the house chewing on his bottom lip. What was he supposed to do when Haruhi returned? It wasn't as though he could just go to the other side of the house like he could with his grandmother back at his own home. 

Despite his great insistence that he could buy them something much larger and fancier, Haruhi had settled on a meager two bedroom apartment. In her eyes, struggling to pay a monthly bill and scrounge up her last bit of yen to go grocery shopping—it was part of being a young adult.

After circling the small living room a few more times, he decided to spend some time with the calendar, crossing off the days that had passed so far. He had little else to do without Haruhi around to scold him or tell him what to do.

He mumbled to himself as he drew a thick black line through each day with a permanent marker. He reached December 24th.

"Confession!?" 

Directly under the small 24, written in perfect lettering, was a single word: Confession.' Had Haruhi done something wrong? Was going to turn herself into the authorities? Or was it that kind of confession? Tamaki wasn't sure which was worse. 

And the twenty-fourth, wasn't that Christmas Eve? It had to be a romantic confession. His little Haruhi was going to confess her feelings to someone! To whom? Tamaki left tracks in the carpet as he wracked his brain. Haruhi had not mentioned any boys. Was she keeping it a secret? Was Haruhi in love with the kind of guy no father could ever approve of? 

What if it was an older man she'd met at University? A liberal with crazy ideals or a foreigner who didn't shave and wanted to whisk Haruhi away to America with promises of fancy tuna and foreign food!

"These are purely paternal thoughts!" 

Besides, this could be anyone that Haruhi was going to confess to tomorrow! What if it was a teacher who had seduced his innocent daughter? Promises to boost her grade and Haruhi really did care about her grades an awful lot.

His daughter would never stoop so low!

But what if she'd been worried and overworked? What if she had no choice and was being taken advantage of but she was too afraid to ask for help because he was threatening her friends and the only family she had left?!

His eyes bulged as he stared at the tiny print. But then again, it did say confession, and that kind of thing was usually voluntary.

It hardly settled his stomach. Haruhi had no idea what was best for her! Whoever it was had probably lied to Haruhi and now she had the wrong idea about him, that he was nice and sweet when really he was just a filthy scoundrel, probably involved with the Yakuza or some other vagabonds, and any minute he was going to pull up outside in his motorcycle with a bunch of tattoos and—

"No daughter of mine is getting involved with the Yakuza!" 

"Who's getting involved with the Yakuza?" 

Tamaki screeched in terror, flinging himself across the room and tripping over his own legs before flailing silently and falling behind the couch.

"Please don't!" He cowered, covering his face. "I can pay you off!"

"Tamaki?" 

A violet eye cracked open slowly. "Haruhi?"

"Who else would just be waltzing into our apartment?" She arched an eyebrow and shook her head.

"I'm so glad you're safe!" 

Tamaki was on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around Haruhi and pulling her against him.

She blushed. "Of course I'm safe. What's wrong with you?" She asked, words muffled against his chest.

"I just worry for you! Getting involved with foreigners and Yakuza, and you know—I heard America has it's own sort of Yakuza, except they call them the—"

Haruhi took a step back. She gave him a long, hard look. "Are you sure you're not sick?"

“Of course!” Tamaki could feel himself sweating. "I'm in a perfectly normal and healthy condition!"

"Why on earth would I be involved with the Yakuza, or foreigners, for that matter?" 

His face matched a cherry. He couldn't tell her that he'd seen what was written on the calendar. That he knew her secret. It was probably something very personal that she wasn't ready to speak about and that's why she hadn't yet told him herself. She might even consider it an invasion of privacy. But then, it was on the calendar in the living room, plain as day.

"Haruhi, I know that you're at that age where you’re becoming interested in romance, and well, I just wanted you to know…” The words stuck in his throat. “That whoever you choose, I'd just like to meet them first. It's my duty as your father to make sure that this man is good enough for my little girl!" 

Haruhi held a strange expression. "Right." 

Haruhi looked hurt, and as she headed towards her bedroom Tamaki felt distinctly guilty. What had he done wrong? Was he too overprotective? 

Wouldn’t it be unfair? To want Haruhi all to himself? To want to see her every day and make her a bento before she leaves for University. He even entertained thoughts of her having his children.

Children?! His grandchildren, of course, because Haruhi is his daughter. Not children like he and Haruhi would be having children together because he definitely didn't wonder whether or not they'd get her big brown eyes or his blond hair!

"I'm sick, aren't I?" He wondered out loud, flopping himself face-down onto the carpet. 

He stared at his cellphone a few feet away on the coffee table. It was high time he phoned a friend for help. Someone who was already an expert in the field of impure thoughts and incestuous feelings, and yet, someone who wouldn't ridicule him.

Kaoru!

Tamaki sluggishly pulled himself across the carpet until he could reach the little device. There was a keychain with a teddy bear dangling from the top. The phone rang six times before connecting to voicemail. The second time he calls, it doesn’t ring at all.

Of all the times for Hikaru to ignore him, why now? After a few hours of puttering around the house and very, very awkward dinner between him and Haruhi he'd finally decided that enough was enough. It was obviously affecting his relationship with Haruhi—so something needed to be done.

And of course Kaoru still wasn't answering his phone!

This time it was actually important. Thinking of Haruhi in that sort of way...her pretty brown eyes, and that lovely smile, and the way her breasts were so small and cute and perky...

He scrambled to redial the numbers.

“Hi, this is Kaoru. I’m not here right now but you can leave a message—”

“He won't call you back!”

“Hikaru, shut up!”

The voicemail cut off and was followed by a tone. Tamaki glanced at the clock. It was nearing eleven in the evening. Perhaps Kaoru had already gone to bed for the night? But then, Kaoru had always been a night person, and it wasn't as if he was some sort of old man.

Tamaki dialed again. Please answer, please answer, please answer, please—

"...Hello! Tamaki?" a strained voice answered, and the blond found himself caught quite off guard. 

Why did Kaoru sound so uncomfortable? Had Kyouya woken him up for this? Was he going to be angry? It didn't matter. There was no time for rationalizing. He could be jeopardizing his relationship with his only daughter! 

"Listen, I was thinking about Mori and Honey and how one time back in Ouran I asked Mori if he thought about kissing Honey and he said no, but then I realized that I was a father so it was okay, but now that I know that Mori did think about kissing Honey and now that Mori and Honey are like that, I was thinking that it would make me and Haruhi like that! And then I was thinking some more and I started thinking some, some—" 

It was now or never.

"Some less than platonic things about her!" Tamaki blurted.

Tamaki felt lighter and heavier simultaneously. While he had finally said it out loud and gotten it off his chest, verbalizing it made his feeling that much more real. Silence greeted him. Was Kaoru disgusted?

"Well I thought I'd call you because I know that you and Hikaru are like that."

Kaoru huffs. "That's hardly the same!"

Anger erupted on the other side of the line. Well of course Tamaki knew that stuff was only for show, but he had never been one hundred percent sure.

"It’s close enough, right?" 

There was the whole sleeping in the same bed thing. Tamaki opted not to say the last bit. Kaoru sounded angry enough as it was. He seemed to be running on a short fuse. 

“What do you want, tono?” Kaoru asked, exasperated.

"How should I know? Can't you just tell me what to do or give me some advice? I mean, one minute Haruhi is my young, innocent daughter, and the next minute I’m having impure thoughts about her! I mean, I know I'm not related to her by blood, but a father's bond needs knows no bounds. Isn't it just all so wrong?"

"No, I don't think it's wrong. It's not as though Haruhi is actually your daughter. Remember?"

“But the only other reason I could be thinking such things is if I had some kind of romantic feelings for her. Could you imagine? Me and Haruhi?”

“What’s so weird about that?”

Tamaki retreated into his own thoughts again. Speaking out loud was for his own benefit.

"You don't think it’s possible that maybe it's been this way all along, do you?" Tamaki mumbled. 

How could he have been so confused? What did Haruhi think? Had she known? For how long? Always? Was she disgusted?

"Do you think that I should confess?" 

That was a terrifying thought. No time for such impractical things as love and like, that's probably what she'd say. There was a long silence where Tamaki was unsure if Kaoru has disconnected the call.

"But you know, what if she doesn't like me? Or even worse, she thinks I'm disgusting. She thinks of me like a father, and I’ve turned out to be just as bad as the rest of them!”

“If I hang up, you should call her. It’s a sign?”

Tamaki was puzzled. “What?”

Click.

Tamaki was suddenly struck with one distinct urge: to run and tell Haruhi that she was right; she doesn’t need two fathers, so can Tamaki please, please, be her boyfriend instead?


	2. Chapter 2

Tamaki slammed the phone down with a little more force than necessary. Ha had made the mistake of getting excited. He couldn’t help but remember the tiny print he'd read on the calendar earlier that very day: confession. His heart sunk.

Haruhi would definitely reject him, because she obviously already had someone else in mind. The man she was going to confess to was probably much better than him. He was probably a commoner, like Haruhi, and so he would already understand all of her customs and strange ways of life. He'd probably never asked questions like, “How do you open the dishwasher?” or, “We have to change our own light bulbs?!” He probably knew how to vacuum and he'd probably been making instant coffee since before Tamaki was born.

The two of them probably discussed how fancy tuna was the best thing in the whole world, and how much they hated selfish, rich bastards like Tamaki. What did Haruhi like in boys, anyway?

Violet eyes shifted, studying the picture frame on the bedside table. It was a picture that had been taken on the last day of school, one of the entire Host Club. Even Renge was there. Everyone was smiling, and surprisingly, Haruhi was dressed in Ouran's female uniform.

She'd decided to wear it on the on the last day of school, to finally reveal the truth. Suddenly an alarm went of in Tamaki's head.

"It is a boy that she's going to confess to...right?" He swallowed. 

Was his Haruhi also like that? Like Kaoru and Kyouya and Honey and Mori? How? A homosexual main character?! How could so many of them lean in the same direction? It was beginning to seem more and more like perhaps he and Hikaru were merely the heterosexual side characters, instead of the other way around!

"It can't be!" Tamaki shouted. 

For how long had Haruhi been this way? Why hadn't she ever told him? Was she afraid, did she think he was too judgmental? What if it had been something she'd really been struggling with, and this entire time Tamaki hadn't even been given the chance to be there for her! What if she'd never given him the chance because she was creeped out because she could tell that he felt about her! She couldn't tell, could she? Could everyone tell? For how long had everyone known?

Why was he always the last one to know?

Suddenly, he was struck with the very best idea. He would just go ahead and find out, right?  
Mind reeling, he jumped up and scrambled for the necessary items. A few minutes and a notepad later Tamaki had mapped out his entire plan. It consisted of a series of questions, goals, and demonstrations, all of which, in the end, would tell him whether or not it was a boy or a girl that Haruhi was going to confess to. He intelligently dubbed it: Operation Find Out Haruhi's Sexuality.

He wasn't sure exactly why it was so important that he find out the gender of the person Haruhi he liked, but for some inexplicable reason, it really was. The idea that Haruhi liked a girl was really gnawing at his insides. If it was a boy Haruhi he liked—if Haruhi at least like boys—then he had a chance, as small as it may be. With a girl, well, Tamaki couldn't compete with that!

First things first.

The first person he decided to call was Hikaru, for several reasons, but most importantly because Hikaru and Haruhi seemed to have formed a strange, quasi-friendship over the years. Not to mention Hikaru wasn’t in school. He phoned him with excited fingers.

He began talking before Hikaru could even manage a bored, "Moshi, moshi."

"Hikaru, do you know anything about Haruhi involving a..." his thumbs twitched. How could he word this without giving everything about the situation away? "Confession?" he finally managed. 

There was a cough on the other line. A very suspicious cough. Hikaru definitely knew something.

"Uh, no-not particularly..." More coughing. Even more suspicious. "Why do you ask? Maybe you'd be better off asking Kaoru anyway, he's much better at—"

Tamaki knew exactly what Hikaru was trying to do. He was attempting to defend Haruhi's honor, and keep his loyalty to her as a friend! While they were both very respectable traits—especially for someone like Hikaru—they really weren't going to help Tamaki at all. For the first time ever, he wished that Hikaru wasn't such a good guy. Why couldn't Haruhi have normal, secret-spilling, backstabbing friends? Weren't those the sort of friends girls were supposed to have anyway?

Unless it was different with Haruhi since Haruhi didn't want girls as just friends, she wanted to date girls—confess to girls! He began to tap his foot anxiously. Haruhi did have a lot of male friends, didn't she? All those years at Ouran, coming to school everyday dressed as a boy; it had obviously done had an effect on her fragile psyche. 

Tamaki chewed on his lip.

The only female friend Haruhi ever had was Renge, and everyone knew how Renge was with Haruhi! All those years of Haruhi pretending to be a boy, flirting and chatting with girls all the while she was a girl! Why had he let such a thing go on for so long?

Now he was paying for it. Now Haruhi didn't like boys at all! What if it was his fault? Could something like that even be someone else's fault? Tamaki wasn't exactly sure quite how things liked that worked. He didn't know what made a person lean in one direction or the other. Maybe it was pre-determined. Maybe it wasn't.

But with Haruhi he didn't know one way or the other! He just didn't know!

"Please, Hikaru! It'll just be between you and me, I promise! I really have to know! I can't have my daughter running of with the Yakuza." 

His cool-guy detective demeanor was quickly crumpling, revealing the same old Tamaki, hysterical and afraid.

"It isn't a girl is it? Is Haruhi like Mori and Honey?" The blond sobbed openly into the phone.

Hikaru would understand, right?

"Look Hikaru, me and you, we're the same! We can see eye-to-eye! I just need to know—" 

Click. Hikaru had hung up. Just like that.

Most of the conversations with the other former-host club members fared about just the same. No one, not even Kyouya, seemed to have a scrap of useful information regarding Haruhi and whether or not she liked girls or boys. If anything, they seemed to be hiding something. Maybe something far worse and far more sinister than he'd originally imagined.

She wasn't that tight on cash, right? Right?

If things continued at this rate, Christmas Eve was going to arrive before Tamaki found out anything—and then it would be too late. Haruhi would confess and the person—boy, girl, whatever—would obviously return her feelings. They had too. How could anyone not like Haruhi?

Resisting the urge to lapse into hysterics, Tamaki considered his options. The easiest way to get information on anyone or anything was just the same: gossip. With a renewed burst of energy, he scrambled into the bathroom to shower and change. Immediacy aside, he always wanted to look his best. Nearly tripping over his fit on his way out the door, he grabbed his bag and bolted down the street.

The parking lot was bigger than he'd expected. Tamaki had been to Haruhi's University once before, but he'd never really looked at the finer details: the architecture or the colors, and hardly the size of the parking lot. The building structure itself was impressive. High cement walls and rows of tiny rectangular windows; little decorative carvings ingrained around the perimeter of the doorways. It was rather, beautiful, Tamaki thought. Almost as good as Ouran.

Despite the school's beauty, things weren't going so well. He'd been standing outside of the main entryway for six and a half hours, and still, not a soul seemed to have any useful information about a Haruhi Fujioka. No one.

"Excuse me, fair lady, but I was wondering..." 

The fair lady in question was an average looking college student with long, black hair tied into a high ponytail. She gave him a hardly-concealed suspicious look.

"Shove off, creep, or I'm going to report you to the school security," she said, turning heel, her scarf fluttering in the heavy wind.

That was another problem. Even worse than the lack of information was the fact that most of students wouldn't even speak to him kindly. After just a few words they always looked at him like he’d buttoned up his shirt incorrectly. Perhaps commoners were suspicious of everyone?

"Excuse me, sir, but I wanted to know if—" The words had barely fallen from his lips when his eyes widened.

"Tamaki, why are you outside of my school?" a low voice asked flatly.

"Haruhi! You're not wearing—I mean--you’re dressed like just back in Ouran!" 

Tamaki had been pleased with Haruhi's recent interest in barrettes and cute clothing, but this was like Ouran all over again! She was wearing a vest over a long-sleeved shirt, and plain, black pants. He'd thought she was a boy! Again.

Haruhi refused to comment. 

"Why are you outside of my school? I told you I wouldn't be home until five today. I have English, remember?" 

English? Haruhi really did like foreigners, didn't she?

"I was merely checking up on my daughter! Can't a father worry about her daughter? Is that such a crime?" Tamaki shouted.

"Well it very well may be. It looks like you're trespassing, and you're going to get yourself into trouble."

The whole investigation had been a waste of time. He'd wasted hours trying to find even the smallest scrap about who Haruhi liked. Nothing. Even worse, time was not waiting for him. Christmas Eve was quickly approaching, and if he didn't find out what was going on by tomorrow, all hope would be lost.

Without another word, he began the long, treacherous three-block walk back toward the house, leaving Haruhi confused and frozen far behind him. For once, he managed to unlock the door without much trouble, and he let himself in to the empty house feeling worse than he'd felt when he left.

Even if he didn't know how Haruhi he felt about girls or boys, it was precisely clear how she felt about him. He hadn't even received a warm greeting or a smile. Instead he'd gotten bored brown eyes and an annoyed voice informing him that trespassing was a misdemeanor.

There was no hope. It didn't really matter if was a girl or a guy. What was the difference to Haruhi anyway? Either way, she was going to confess to someone tomorrow. The calendar said so. Haruhi had always been a very organized person, and if there was one thing she was good at, it was following through with plans.

Maybe if he'd of realized it sooner, asked her out way back in high school—god, he was such an idiot!—there would have been time. Why hadn't anyone told him? No one ever told him anything! Why did everyone force him to waste so much time trying to figure things out on his own?

He sighed in defeat, crawling under the bed in hopes that no one would ever find him again, that he could be left alone by himself to die and rot away until his body had completely decomposed. Besides, if died under the bed next to the dust-bunnies and dirt, at least then he'd never have to know who Haruhi was going to confess to. Who could possibly be so precious to her?

***

The next morning was a Saturday, and Haruhi went about her daily routine the same way she always had: methodically. It didn't matter that it was Christmas Eve—she still needed a shower, her teeth still needed to be brushed, and someone still had to put the tea kettle on—certain things just couldn't be avoided.

Thirty minutes into reading the newspaper she realized that something was being avoided. Tamaki was obviously avoiding her. After she'd returned home Tamaki had been nowhere to be found. She'd checked all the rooms, and called out his name several times, but the only answers she’d received had been that of her wet shoes squeaking against the linoleum tiles in the kitchen.

At first, it hadn't been anything to worry over. Tamaki couldn’t always be home, and despite his best efforts, he didn’t have much of a knack for cooking anyway. Haruhi was fine on her own. She'd been by herself for a long time before Tamaki and the rest of the Host Club had come along. Certainly she could do it for one night while Tamaki was over a friend's house or out doing whatever it was rich people did with their free time.

Still, there was the part that left her feeling like she was missing something.

Where could Tamaki have gone on the day before Christmas Eve? Last night she'd been tired, but now, eight hours of sleep later with Tamaki still missing, worry was beginning to seep into her skin. Tamaki wouldn't possibly spend the holidays with someone else, would he? Not one to jump to conclusions, she resigned to calling Kyouya when she was finished with the newspaper.

She couldn't wait that long. Thirteen seconds later she was dialing the Ootori residence with shaking fingers. After two rings, someone picked up.

"Kyouya, I'm sorry to bother you, but—"

"It's fine, it's fine," he said easily. 

Laughter. Haruhi was relieved to realize that Kyouya wasn't laughing, but that it was merely Hikaru who had answered his phone. She let out a nervous laugh herself.

"Hi Hikaru, I was calling for Kyouya. Is he around?"

"He’s actually out at the moment. I could tell him you called if you'd like?" 

Kyouya wasn't home? He was probably out with Tamaki—obviously—who else would Tamaki have gone out with?

"Tamaki's not with him, is he?"

"Not that I know of, why?" 

How could Tamaki not be with Kyouya? Her heart rate was steadily accelerating.

"It's nothing. Thanks for the help, I'll talk to you later!" 

She hung up the phone. Her palms were sweating. Almost immediately, the phone began to ring, and when she glanced down at the caller ID it read "Kyouya." She'd obviously worried Kaoru, but she wasn't sure exactly how to explain to him that she'd lost Tamaki. That she didn't know where he was. 

"I'm getting ahead of myself," she said out loud, trying to steer herself toward reason.

It had quite the opposite effect when she realized she was speaking out loud to herself in an empty house. She wiped her hands against her pants and headed towards her bedroom. Perhaps a bit of relaxing was in order.

When her head hit the pillow, Haruhi thought maybe she really did need a break. Between attending school and working part-time, she really had been overexerting herself. Perfectionism never seemed to help matters. Her mind drifted at first, consciousness fading, but only a few moments later she was wide awake, hazel eyes trained on the ceiling.

The sound of the toilet flushing was what woke her up. She nearly had a heart attack. In her sleep hazy mind, her first thought was that someone had broken in. They were being robbed. She had to get out. Of course, after only a few seconds of hysteria she realized that the noise was probably just Tamaki. Tamaki was home.

More excited than she liked to admit, Haruhi was running down the hallway, white socks padding across the apartment floor.

Strange.

The bathroom was completely empty. The water from the toilet was still running, and the sink was still wet, but other than that there wasn't a single sign that anyone had entered the house at all. The shower curtain was blue with yellow ducks, and it hung listlessly; the entire room strangely silent. The white tiling and stack of towels remained untouched. 

Yet, someone had obviously been in there. She was sure of it. 

The journey to Tamaki's bedroom was a short one, and as she glanced around at the poster lined walls and cluttered dresser, she realized suddenly how very different she and Tamaki were from one another. Haruhi liked to keep her own room neat and organized—knowing where everything was and having a proper place for everything was essential.

Tamaki's room was cluttered with personal items and hair products, and silly, sentimental things too, like movie stubs and old holiday cards that people had sent him. His walls were lined with posters of idols, pinned with colorful thumbtacks. 

If Tamaki wasn't back in time, her holiday plans would be shot to hell. Her eyes flickered to the right suddenly; a soft rustling noise was coming from somewhere inside the room. She stilled. Feeling more a little apprehensive, she began to check through the rest of the apartment—which really wasn't much—until she was once again standing in the bathroom doorway. 

She'd come full circle. The sink was dry and the toilet was silent. Had there ever been any water in the sink at all?

Haruhi felt like she was going crazy. She decided to calm herself with some tea and an attempt to go back to the paper she'd been reading this morning when she realized with a surge that it was already mid evening. It was the windows and not the kitchen clock that had alerted her of the fact. The sky was already dark and bottomless. How could it already be seven? Just how long had she slept, exactly?

Dark hair hung in her eyes as she took a seat at the table, hunched her shoulders, and quietly began to cry. It was sudden and strange and frustrating—and foreign too—Haruhi wasn't used to crying.

Here it was, Christmas Eve, and not only had Haruhi not even managed to ask Tamaki out, but now Tamaki wasn't even around to be asked out in the first place. So much for a confession. Tamaki saw her as a daughter, and that was that. She could get used to it. 

She definitely couldn't get used to living without him. Without his endless enthusiasm and scatter-brained attitude to curve her cynicism and logic, things just didn't feel right. It felt like a precarious balance on a scale had just slipped, sending her heavy heart plummeting. Feeling stupid, she stood up, dried her eyes, and headed back towards Tamaki's room.

Once inside, she threw herself onto green sheets and stifled a sob. She wasn't going to cry again. The bed smelled like Tamaki, like lavender shampoo and fancy bath salts. Crying really wouldn't solve anything, and even if there wasn't anyone around to hear it, that didn't mean—

There was that noise again. Haruhi quieted her breathing, and listened. Slowly, she removed herself from the bed; eyes alert.

There was somebody in the house.

She tried not to choke on her own fear. It couldn't be Tamaki. Tamaki wasn't the type of person to go sneaking around the house, suspicious and quiet and calculating. Whoever was in the house did not want to be heard. What could she do? Call the police was the most obvious choice, but not a particularly quiet one.

Hide. That was what she ought to do, hide. He instincts screamed at her to run. She couldn't just stand there. Flight overcoming fight, she dropped slowly to the floor and began to move her body beneath the bed.

Haruhi screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

::::

"Tamaki?" Haruhi managed breathlessly, all the fear and tension draining from her body.

There underneath the bed--beside empty shoe boxes and old birthday wrapping paper, right next to Haruhi's treasured stuffed bunny from her childhood, just to the left of several of her favorite mechanical pencils, just below a strangely colored pink article of clothing (that appeared to be a skirt, as far as Haruhi could tell), with several candy bar wrappers lying right in front of him—was Tamaki.

Haruhi gaped. She sputtered. Tamaki swallowed.

"Hello, Haruhi," he said quietly.

Haruhi stared. "Are you out of your mind?" She screeched. 

Tamaki didn't answer. A few strands of blond hair fell perfectly onto his face, obstructing his eyes. Tamaki was at a loss for words. How could he possibly explain himself? Opting for a long, awkward silence rather than speaking with such a high probability that he’d say something stupid, Tamaki began picking at the carpeting.

"Have you been under here this entire time?" Haruhi asked, with a little less edge in her tone. 

Still, Tamaki could sense her anger, and something else too—clipped and hurt, all covered up.

"Sorry, Haruhi." 

What could have prompted Tamaki to decide it was best to live under his bed for an entire day? She couldn't even begin to imagine. 

"And why are my pencils here?"

She wanted to ask more. She wanted to ask him the more important questions, like why was Usa-chan under his bed, and more importantly, why was he under his bed? But something like that opened so many doors that she wasn't quite sure she ready to walk through.

"I found them here."

"You found them here?" She didn't believe that at all, and Tamaki knew it.

"Yeah, I was looking for them actually! That's what I'm doing under here, in case you were wondering!"   
Wasn't she wondering? Why hadn't Haruhi asked him where he'd been? Didn't she care about him at all? Hadn't she wondered where'd he'd gone? Missed him, even just the teeniest bit?

Silence enveloped them again. For once, they were on the same exact page. The two of them laid facing each other, a little too close beneath Tamaki's bed, and wondered just when did things become so awkward?

Without words and questions to distract him, Tamaki had become distinctly aware of how close they were. He could nearly feel her body heat. It was really just a few measly inches. 

The longer the silence grew, the more difficult it became for Tamaki to end it. Haruhi was slowly beginning to figure it out: there was an elephant in the room. The longer she stared into Tamaki's eyes, the more apparent it became. There was a very large, very ridiculous, very obnoxious elephant in the room, and it was laying right between them. 

Christmas Eve was tomorrow, and didn't someone famous once say, "there's no time like the present," or something like that? Now really was as good a time as any. Unless she really was going crazy.

She played a boy for four years at Ouran, so surely one more night wasn't going to kill her.

"Tamaki,” Haruhi said suddenly.

Tamaki looked at her and prayed she wasn't going to come out to him as a lesbian right now. He really wasn't sure if he could handle something like that right now. His mind was crumbly already.

"I just, um..." Between the two of them, little was getting accomplished. "Tamaki, what I'm trying to say, is that..." 

What was she trying to say, exactly? Even Haruhi wasn't so sure anymore.

"You're not doing anything Christmas Eve, are you?" 

Haruhi closed her eyes. (Please say no, please say no, please say no...)

"Haruhi!" He wrapped his arms around her smaller frame and pulled her close; excited.

"Haruhi, Haruhi, Haruhi! Why didn't you just tell Daddy that you wanted to go out with him for Christmas Eve?" 

The words tumbled out of his mouth without thought.

"This is so great! So, so, so, so, great!" 

He couldn't have stopped his lips from moving even if he'd wanted to. Haruhi was with him—his Haruhi. Haruhi liked Tamaki. Not another boy, not another girl, not some strange American foreigner or a beatnik Yakuza member—Haruhi liked him!

She said something against his shirt but it was lost against the fabric. Haruhi pulled her face away to clarify.

"I said, I'm not your daughter." 

Tamaki gave her a look.

"I didn't mean daughter like that, silly! I’m just so happy that you want to go out with me on Christmas Eve!" 

Haruhi smiled. Tamaki was easy to understand in some ways. His tone revealed everything. When he'd referred to himself as her Daddy before—it'd been without thought—but this time he said the word like boyfriend.

"So you'll go then? I already booked a place—if that's alright?"

Tamaki's smile could have lit up a city.

"Of course it's alright! I'm so glad you're not involved with the Yakuza, Haruhi! This is the best day ever!" Tamaki pulled Haruhi against him again.

Suddenly he gave the action some thought. He gave everything a little bit of thought.

"So, does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?" Tamaki asked, his voice rising with his excitement.

"Are you sure you're not the girlfriend, Tamaki-chan?" She asked in jest.

"Of course I'm sure! Haruhi, think of how great we'll be together! We can go on all sorts of fancy dates—I'll take you anywhere—and we can ride the ferris wheel together at the carnival and go to the movies and take pictures together in those little booths and pick the heart background and print them out on stickers and hand them out to all our friends..."

Tamaki's rambling rambling trailed away. It was neither awkward nor perfect, it merely was. It was just one inconsequential moment in the grand scheme of two lives.

Haruhi leaned forward, and kissed him.


End file.
